


The One With The Waggly Tail?

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Gags, M/M, Puppy Play, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim makes a face - a little pouting moue of disappointment. "Don't be such a grump, tiger. You know you'll absolutely love being all anonymous once you get into the fighting pit. Just you and another pup, wrestling until one of you overpowers the other. Once that's decided, the winner gets to fuck the loser.</p><p>It's your idea of sodding Valhalla, Sebastian, and don't try to pretend it isn't."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://galleries.fetishforce.com/tg/110805_ff_wet_dogs/images/full_01.jpg) delicious image.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You get violence and sex, plus more sex later, with _Daddy_ , remember, cherub? I get watching violence and sex, _and_ make money. Everyone wins!"

"No way. No fucking way, Jim. I am _not_ doing it, and that is _it_! That's fucking it!"

"Oh, come _on_ , kitten. It'll be fun. It'll be very gay and very butch and very _violent_ , and I want to show you off. You'll look so utterly delicious all pumped and oiled up. I'll be soooooo turned on, and I'll let you fuck me as much as you want, afterwards. Really."

"Jim. Boss? No, just _no_. It's too fucking - fucking - _humiliating_. And what if someone recognises me? Your bloody chief of staff - your bloody _enforcer_ isn't going to exactly terrify anyone ever again if they've seen me dressed like _this_ , are they?"

" _Seb-as-ti-an_." Jim intonates each syllable in his irritating, singsong "I'm as fucking mad as a bag of fucking cats" soft brogue. "No-one will recognise you, cherub. The sort of people I do business with won't be at a club like this. It'll be wall to wall fucking laymen. Amateurs. Not the sort of people who're going to fucking knife you or shoot you, babe. There'll be there for the craic - and the buff bodies, of course - _tiger_."

Sebastian looks doubtfully at the paraphenalia Jim's laid on the granite kitchen island worktop. A hood with a built in collar, fashioned from black leather, the hood lacing up snugly at the back, equipped with a muzzle with a mouth-filling gag. An O-ring at the front of the collar for attaching a leash. 

And - more humiliatingly - a silicone puppy tail, 9" long, attached to an egg-shaped anal plug, which is wide and thick enough to lock snugly in place in the wearer's arse.

"And don't forget this." Jim holds up a black leather pouch with dangling, tangled straps. "Look - it's basically a leather jockstrap, just like the usual ones - it'll hold your cock and bollocks, with straps round your thighs to hold the pouch in place, but won't interfere with the tail plug. Cool, eh, babes?"

Seb shoots Jim a look of pure vitriol. "Oh, yeah, Jim, _very_ cool. How _thoughtful_ of them to design something which won't interfere with a fucking _dog tail butt plug_!"

Jim makes a face - a little pouting moue of disappointment. "Don't be such a grump, tiger. You know you'll absolutely love being all anonymous once you get into the fighting pit. Just you and another _pup_ , wrestling until one of you overpowers the other. Once that's decided, the winner gets to _fuck_ the loser.

It's your idea of sodding Valhalla, Sebastian, and don't try to pretend it isn't."

"Come again? The "fighting pit"?"

Jim sighs, as if Seb's being particularly dense. "Yes, tiger - _remember_? Two pups, oiled up, wrestling in a pit full of more oil. Oh, and in a cage. What could be more delicious? And all the betting means that I've already got the whole thing rigged - you have such a clever Daddy, babes.

You get violence and sex, plus more sex later, with _Daddy_ , remember, cherub? I get watching violence and sex, _and_ make money. Everyone wins!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Make your moves all you want, _puppy dog_ , but you're going down in this one. You're gonna be my bitch, sweetcheeks, and I'm gonna make you howl."

Sebastian kneels, in the "pit", snarling into his gag and dog mask at his opponent. Surprisingly, given he didn't believe a fucking word of Jim's attempt to persuade him that this was going to be something he'd enjoy, he's half hard, the buff, virtually naked, bodies of all the other guys waiting to fight, and the smell of raw, masculine aggression, all too incredibly fucking arousing.

The guy he's been pitted against is a heavily muscled, oiled Adonis, his leather jock pouch bulging with what Sebastian estimates must be a good eight to ten inches of deliciously thick cock. And Jim's made it quite clear that Seb has to lose this fight; all of his careful manipulation of the betting and the odds is going to make him a lot of money.

So, Sebastian has to lose this round, and let himself be fucked senseless by the pup growling back at him. No great hardship, eh, Sebbikins?

The pup lunges at him, trying to hold him down to sniff his arse. Seb groans, hardening even more. Oh fuck, _yesssss_.

It's difficult to grapple with his opponent, given that they're both wearing padded leather mittens, which transform their hands into fingerless, thumbless, paws, slippery with the oil in which they're both covered.

So it becomes more of a struggle of brute strength, each of them trying simply to overpower the other, pin him down bodily, and wait for the signal from the winner's owner to rip the loser's tail plug out, and fuck him into the slippery, oily, floor.

oOo

Jim sits in the shadows at the side of the cage, his palm pressed hard into his crotch. Fuck, Sebastian looks so fucking lush like this, his obvious erection straining at the front of his leather jock pouch, the whippy rubber tail waggling between his oiled buttocks. Jim doesn't know whether he wants to tie Seb down later and fuck him raw, or whether he'd like gleaming _pup_ Seb to wrestle him to the floor and fuck him like a bitch. 

_Oh, James. Decisions, decisions..._

Either way, he's going to make _a lot_ of money on this fight, and no doubt'll have to excuse himself and nip off to the Gents for a quick wank after watching Seb get fucked over by the big-cocked pup he's wrestling with. 

oOo

Sebastian and his opponent are still circling, neither willing to make the first move. Seb knows he's got to make his defeat look as realistic as he possibly can, so he bides his time, still growling at the other pup. The guy snarls back, darting sideways, but slips on the oiled floor, his knee skidding out from under him. In a second, Seb's on him, pinning him down bodily, his erection prodding at the guy's plugged arse.

Surprisingly, his opponent doesn't appear to be gagged. Turning his head slightly, he growls, _sotto voce_.

"Make your moves all you want, _puppy dog_ , but you're going down in this one. You're gonna be my bitch, sweetcheeks, and I'm gonna make you howl."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, provocatively, Jim twists his wrist slightly, letting his thumb waver between the 'up' - carry on - position, and the 'down' - loser gets fucked - one. With a high, shrill, _mad_ giggle from Jim, and a simultaneous groan from Sebastian, Jim angles his thumb - most emphatically _downwards_.

Later, Seb'll put it down to his surprise when the other pup spoke. But for now, for all his soldier's training, all his experience of hand to hand combat, for all his fucking sniper's excellent fucking reflexes for Christ's sake, he hesitates, like a sodding amateur. A fucking pathetic loser twat who's lost it. No wonder Jim calls him fucking Bagpuss. You're fucking _crap_ , Moran.

Sensing his scintilla of indecision, the man pinned beneath him lunges up and sideways with his legs, throwing Seb off balance, then glides smoothly out from under him, twisting away until he's up on all fours again, facing Sebastian.

"Having a senior moment, old man, or is the NHS hip replacement waiting list that long again?" His opponent taunts him, the aggression in his eyes tempered with amusement. He circles again, and Seb is so fucking pissed off, with himself, and with this cocky young bastard taking the piss, that he's tempted to defy Jim and fucking fuck this wanker into the floor.

But the temptation is only fleeting, Seb's sense of self-preservation arguing, subconsciously but cogently, that fucking Jim off to that extent by losing him so much money would _really_ be so very much more unpleasant for him than taking a fleeting bit of lip and humiliation from a cocky young cagefighter.

Snarling, he launches himself at his opponent, hitting him squarely chest to chest, trying to force the arrogant bastard backwards. Even if he has to lose this fight, he can at least get a few hard punches in and take the little sod down a peg or two. Sebastian is older than his opponent, but he's bigger, and he takes full advantage of his greater size to force the other man over on to his side and throw a sharp jab to his kidney.

The other pup shouts in pain, more a sharp yap than a human cry, and the crowd go wild, cheering and betting furiously as the two men in the pit struggle for dominance. Seb concentrates on holding his opponent down, and thumping him as hard as he can, and is taken by surprise when the other man suddenly twists to the side, taking advantage of the slippery floor to spin round and bring his leg up hard between Seb's thighs.

Sebastian bellows, the pain nauseating, sparking black and red behind his screwed shut eyes, unable to move, unable to do anything but curl on to his side and retch, his gloved hands instinctively covering his throbbing balls.

As the pain begins to recede, he's vaguely award of some booing and shouts of _below the fucking belt!_ and _cheating fucker!_ and similar epithets being hurled at his opponent. Sebastian decides to keep still a little longer. Does this mean the fight's void for cheating?

oOo

Jim surprises himself by wincing and reflexively crossing his legs when Seb gets kicked in the bollocks; fuck it, Jim Moriarty doesn't do empathy, not even with his deliciously fuckable tiger. And now whilst most of the audience are baying for the fight to continue, a sizeable minority are shouting about cheating. Jim makes a quick mental inventory of the most voluble 'cheat' moaners; one way or another (most probably another, permanent, way), they won't be attending any of his fights in the future.

One by one, the voices die down, until there's a silence so tense it could be cut with a knife, and an air of anticipation as the crowd look to Jim, as Sebastian's owner. With a dramatic flourish a Roman emperor would be proud of, Jim stretches out his left arm, fingers fisted but thumb sticking out horizontally in front of him. He can feel Seb's eyes on him, even through the mask, but fuck it, he isn't going to lose this much money over a sore pair of balls.

Slowly, provocatively, Jim twists his wrist slightly, letting his thumb waver between the 'up' - carry on - position, and the 'down' - loser gets fucked - one. With a high, shrill, _mad_ giggle from Jim, and a simultaneous groan from Sebastian, Jim angles his thumb - most emphatically _downwards_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You gonna behave yourself, mate? 'Cause if you don't, we'll hold you down, and believe me, you don't want to have to make us do that."

Immediately, the entrance to the pit is unlocked, and two frighteningly ripped guys in executioner's hoods and leather shorts enter, and stand over Sebastian. One clips a short, braided leather leash to the collar at the base of his hood, whilst the other growls, low enough for Seb to understand but not to be overheard by the audience.

"You gonna behave yourself, mate? 'Cause if you don't, we'll hold you down, and believe me, you don't want to have to make us do that."

Unable to speak, Sebastian simply nods, his eyes following the other heavy's movements as he unlocks the mitts for the other pup and hands him a foil wrapped condom.

Suddenly, Sebastian's overcome with a slew of conflicting emotions. He's still aroused, _very_ aroused, the masochistic part of him which craves submission and humiliation champing at the bloody bit for it but, inexplicably, at the same time he doesn't want it.

He's been a total slut in his time, God knows, fucking and being fucked by anything in a skirt or in trousers that takes his fancy but, for so long now, there's been only Jim. The infuriating, narcissistic, consistently changeable, cruel, brilliant Jim, and Sebastian now finds himself wanting Jim, not this buff muscle boy, even though he'll give him such a good seeing-to he'll be fucked into next week.

He turns his eyes towards the audience, searching for the slight figure of his Boss, his lover, and he's startled to discover that Jim's staring straight back at him, apparently, as his face is hidden in shadow. But what shocks Sebastian even more than the fact that Jim's gaze is locked upon him is that Jim is sucking at the left thumb which he used only moments ago to seal Seb's fate, sucking at it like a little kid lost without his mother.

oOo

Afterwards, when it's over, Sebastian remembers little of what happened in the pit after that. He remembers the other pup being surprisingly gentle in lubing up with the oil and entering him. He remembers the shouting, the catcalls, the encouragement given to the man fucking him. He remembers it being pleasurable; the guy did make some effort to get Seb to show at least the semblance of enjoying it, and he did, coming rather copiously over the floor of the cage once his prostate had been given a hammering and his cock pulled out of his jockstrap.

He remembers leaving the pit on his hands and knees, led by the leash gripped tight in the victor's hand, his softening cock still hanging outside of the leather pouch, a few last stray drops of semen flicking on to his thigh.

He remembers the leash being handed to Jim, words of congratulation on having such an obedient, well-trained pup passing back and forth above his head. Commiserations, too, on losing the fight, but it had been all rather unsatisfactory and below the belt and they looked forward to seeing Jim's pup fight again.

Jim smiles politely as he takes the leash, pulling Sebastian in to lean against his leg, patting his leather-covered head as one would a pet dog, taking his leave with the excuse of needing to get his pup back to kennels to rest.

oOo

Jim doesn't let Seb take his pup gear off before going out to the car, but at least tucks his cock away for him. In the car, Jim flicks up the mirrored visor before turning to Sebastian and unbuckling the hood.

The relief at no longer being swathed in the sweaty leather and the removal of the gag is immense but, even more wonderful, from Seb’s point of view, is the way Jim tilts his chin slightly, to allow him a long swallow from the bottle of deliciously cool water, wiping away any stray drops with his fingertips, then curls him up on the long, padded bench seat and covers him with a warm, soft throw, before laying Seb’s head in his lap and stroking some semblance of tidiness into his sweat-spiked, mussed up hair.

Sebastian has never thought Jim’s quiet Dublin lilt more beautiful. “Shush, shush, brave tiger, Daddy’s got you now. That’s it, close your eyes, brave boy. We’re going home.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Romance? You want romance? I'll give you romance, babes, but I want you naked and on your fucking knees begging for it."

Sebastian knows, knows, _knows_ , from vast experience, that Jim's mood won't survive the drive home, so he soaks up this attention from sweet, gentle Jim for as long as it lasts. Sure enough, after only a couple of roundabouts Jim's knee's bouncing, Jim's breathing's becoming irregular as his mind races, and Jim's fingers are tangling painfully in his hair, instead of stroking.

But what seals Jim's return to mercurial, evil _bastard_ Jim is the stuttered whispering. _Tiger TT T T T TT_.

It's almost too quiet to make out, but the consonantal voiceless alveolar stop continues as Jim's touch becomes more erratic.

 _T T T TTT TT T Tiger_.

Jim's whisper is breathy and potent against his ear.

"Daddy's back, baby, and we're nearly home. Does tiger want to play?"

Jim presses his crotch against the side of Seb's head and he can feel him, hot and hard, separated from Seb's cheek by only the finely woven fabric of Jim's suit trousers.

"I took my boxers off before we left the club, baby. I'd soaked them through watching you fighting. I had to wank myself off in the Gents, tiger, I was sooooo hot and wet from seeing you come all over the floor."

Jim's panting now, rutting against Sebastian, his hand wandering down under the blanket and stroking at the leather of his jockstrap.

"Daddy needs to be fucked, baby. Is Sebby going to take Daddy in hand and be a naughty boy for him?"

With a growl, Sebastian pulls himself up, twisting around and pinning Jim to the seat.

"Yes, you sadistic little fucker, I'm going to fucking take you in hand. You'll be fucking begging me for mercy before I've finished with you."

Jim squirms, violently enough not to be merely for show, but not quite hard enough to be anywhere near able to push Sebastian off of him. Seb bends in, nuzzling at Jim's neck before biting down, worrying at the skin near hard enough to tear it, sucking a livid bruise into the pale curve of Jim's throat. Jim moans and twists beneath him, grinding his crotch against Sebastian's thigh, another wet spot blooming on the front of his trousers.

A discrete rapping on the visor informs them that they're home, and Seb leans back from Jim's neck to lace his fingers into Jim's hair, yanking his head up viciously before delivering a stinging slap to his left cheek, followed by a brutal backhand to the right.

Jim's eyes lose focus momentarily, as a trickle of blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. Seb kicks the car door open and backs himself out, dragging Jim behind him by the hair, and over to the lift up to their flat.

The lift proves to be exactly the right size for a quick spot of load testing, to the extent that the walls can withstand the impact of a bouncing Jim Moriarty, anyway. By the time they reach their floor, Jim's sporting an impressively blooming black eye and a number of blood splashes, and is grinning up at Sebastian through bloodied teeth.

Hurling Jim bodily into the flat, Sebastian stands over him, daring Jim to try to make a run for it.

"Strip."

Jim pouts, a little bloodily. "Oh, tiger, no foreplay? Has the romance left our relationship so soon?"

Sebastian smiles down at the slight man lying beneath him. "Romance? You want romance? I'll give you romance, babes, but I want you naked and on your fucking knees begging for it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pull your cheeks apart and show me your arsehole, Jimmikins. I've something I'm really going to enjoy putting up you."

When Jim continues to smirk insolently back up at him, looking not in the least obedient or submissive, Sebastian decides to call his bluff.

“I’m going to the bedroom to fetch a couple of things. When I get back I want you naked and on your knees, and ready to be a very well-behaved little Jimmikins for me, or I swear to you, babes, I’ll be having a hot shower and taking a bottle of Scotch to bed with me, and I’ll leave you to hump the fucking furniture for the evening.”

Jim looks mutinous, but says nothing, slowly sticking his tongue out and licking suggestively at the congealing trickle of blood at the side of his mouth. Seb resists the urge to kick him squarely in the balls, and turns away, making for the bathroom.

It is wonderful to peel the tight leather jockstrap away from his crotch. He is sweaty; dirty; _defiled_ , yet even a quick soap and flannel wash in the basin leaves him feeling fresh and clean. Striding through to the bedroom, he knows exactly what to grab.

The butter-soft, gleaming, black leather jeans are the ones Jim had specially tailored for him. They are a second skin, clinging to the muscles of his legs, and delineating the impressive contours of his crotch quite magnificently. He pulls on a pair of heavy army boots, pulling the laces through perfunctorily, leaving them loose.

Delving into the chest of drawers he retrieves a pair of nipple clamps linked by a thick, heavy chain, a cock ring and a pair of handcuffs. Last but not least is the choke chain he bought, ironically enough, to puppy train Jim. Sebastian's cock twitches and he rubs his crotch at the memory of Jim lying on the floor, legs pulled up and splayed, chain tight around his neck, coming all over himself as Seb stroked his obedient little puppy's cock to completion.

Smiling to himself, and continuing to rub his cock through the soft leather, he saunters back through to the hallway. His smile widens to an outright grin when he sees Jim kneeling quietly where he left him, his clothes folded neatly on the floor beside him. Grabbing Jim by the hair, he pulls him up far enough to be able to bend down and kiss him, growling with approval as Jim opens his mouth submissively to him, allowing him to dominate his mouth with teeth and lips and tongue.

"Good boy." Seb pulls away, pushing Jim back down to the floor on all fours. "Through to the lounge. Wait for me beside the sofa."

As Jim makes to crawl away, Seb suddenly has an idea. "No, stop. Face to the floor, arse up. And spread your legs."

Jim throws him a dirty look over his shoulder, but does as he's told. "Eyes to the floor. You don't look up unless I give you permission."

Grabbing the puppy tail butt plug from where it's lying forlornly by the door with the other pup gear, Seb inspects it quickly. It's a little dirty, but still pretty squelchy with lube. Fuck it; they've done worse. Jim can't really complain about having a less than pristine butt plug stuffed up his arse, not given their past activities.

Kneeling over Jim, one hand keeping his face pressed to the hall floorboards, the other stroking between his raised buttocks, Seb's order is a low growl. 

"Pull your cheeks apart and show me your arsehole, Jimmikins. I've something I'm really going to enjoy putting up you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying yourself, Jimmy? Want the clamps? Want them gentle or teeth-grinding tight?

Jim’s wincing hisses and little mewling sounds of discomfort are music to Sebastian’s ears.

“Not enjoying yourself, baby? And you were telling me earlier how sexy I looked, with my tail waggling and my arse all oiled up. I’m sure you’ll look equally good, even without the oil.”

Jim grunts and tries to pull away, but he’s held too tightly, Seb’s palm pressing down on the back of his neck whilst the other works the plug into his arse.

“Hold yourself open for me, baby. Struggle all you want; you aren’t going anywhere until this is inside you.”

At last the plug slides home with a soft squelch, as Jim makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a stifled howl, and Seb slaps his buttocks smartly.

“Through into the lounge with you then, and wait for me by the sofa.”

Seb squeezes down on his crotch again as he watches Jim’s slim, pale, hips sway, the springy rubber puppy tail whipping from side to side as he crawls. Letting Jim wait by the sofa, Seb saunters through to the lounge, spinning the handcuffs nonchalantly around on his index finger.

"Hands behind your back, baby. I want you plugged and helpless."

Jim squints up at him. "Oh, sweetheart, that eye's gonna be really impressive. I'll tell the men you took down one of the Iceman's goons, yeah?"

Jim shrugs. "OK, tiger. Just make it sound good. But - Sebastian - helpless? I'm never helpless." Jim leans in to Seb's thigh and nuzzles at his hip.

"Only with you, tiger. Only with you."

Sebastian locks the cuffs shut with a satisfying _chink_. Grasping Jim's hair roughly, he bends the kneeling man back, stooping to squeeze at his nipples with his other hand. Jim moans and squirms, his cock standing up stiff and red, pre-come beading at its tip. Seb slips the cockring down over Jim's erection, rubbing the pad of his thumb through the pearl of liquid, smearing it into the slit.

"Ohhhhh. Jesus, tiger. Please."

"Begging so soon, baby?"

Seb kneels down, bending to lick at Jim's nipples, noting with satisfaction just how fucking stiff they've become.

"Enjoying yourself, Jimmy? Want the clamps? Want them gentle or teeth-grinding tight?"

Jim gasps, squirming down on to the plug, his cock thrusting upwards, seeking friction.

"Tight. Oh, _fuck_ , tiger. Tight. Please. _Hurt me_."

Seb screws the clamps down as hard as he can, ignoring Jim's increasingly voluble whimpers. Settling himself back on the sofa, he gestures to his thigh.

"If you want to come, baby, you have to hump my leg. Rub yourself off against the leather."

Jim looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it'll hurt, tiger, It's too dry."

Seb smiles. "Then get it wet, baby."

Jim leans forward and begins to lick at the gleaming leather, stretched tightly over his thigh, as Seb plays with the chain linking the nipple clamps, jerking it roughly whenever Jim appears to be slacking in his oral ministrations. 

"That's enough, baby. Now get up here and show me how much you want to come."


	8. Chapter 8

Jim shimmies up quickly enough to straddle Sebastian's thigh but, once there, finds it difficult to balance and rub his bound, leaking cock against the gleaming leather. Seb supports Jim's weight as he pulls him forwards to lean against his shoulder, smirking as he pulls the chain linking the nipple clamps up and gestures for Jim to hold it in his mouth. 

"Don't drop it, sweetheart, or I'll hang you from the ceiling by those sweet, pert little nips and beat you 'til you bleed."

Jim snarls and harumphs around the impromptu gag, but holds the chain firm between his sharp, white, teeth.

"Good boy. Now, before I let you bring yourself off, I want to see you fucking yourself on that plug. Fuck your prostate with it, and get my thigh nice and slick for when you rut against it."

Jim's face is a picture - lips thin and white, incensed with anger, eyes screwed half shut with concentration. Sitting up and slowly rolling his hips, his expression changes completely as the tip of the plug begins to press against his prostate and his cock trickles even more pre-come on to the slippery leather.

"Yeah, baby. Doesn't that feel good? Make you want to rub your cock in all that mess and cream all over my thigh?"

"Mmmmmph mmmmph mmmmmmmmph!"

"That's it, baby. What a dirty little slut you are, bouncing on my lap, fucking yourself with that nice, fat plug. Do you want to come, Jimmikins? Do you want Sebby to let you come?"

"Mmmmmmph!"

"Then so you shall, baby, so you shall. And, as a special treat, you can lick it all up afterwards."

Seb allows Jim to balance against his chest and shoulder again so that he can manoeuvre himself into position and rub his cock against Seb's slippery, soaked, thigh. Jim breathes harshly through his teeth as he flexes his thigh muscles and buttocks, the tip of his prick sliding back and forth through the mess he's made. Seb nuzzles at his neck, growling lewd and low into Jim's ear.

"You make such filthy sounds, baby. Your cock's just dripping for it, isn't it? You make me want to just fuck you face down on the floor like an animal, until you're red and raw."

Jim moans around the chain, his rutting becoming faster and sloppier. 

"Want to come, baby? Pull the clamps off and tell me, and I'll take your cock ring off."

Jim tosses his head, squealing as the clamps pull at his nipples, stretching the over-sensitive skin. 

"C'mon, Jimmy, you can do it. If you want to come, that is."

Jim rears back, squealing again as one clamp pulls free, breathing harshly as its twin just about clings on to the very tip of the other nipple, before twisting his neck violently and at last dislodging it. He squeals even louder when Seb massages his swollen, puffy nipples with a sadistic chuckle before pulling the cock ring free and throwing it away to the side.

"You can talk, Jimmy-boy. Go ahead." 

Jim spits the chain out, panting. "You evil fucking bastard, Moran."

"Shut it, Jim. You love it. Now fucking get yourself off on my leg, you perverted little shit."

The room is quiet apart from the wet sounds of Jim's rutting, and his panting and an occasional grunt. Seb reaches around behind Jim, jiggling the plug and fucking him with it, enjoying Jim's moans of pleasure when the tip presses against his prostate. Jim's thrusting becomes increasingly more erratic, and his gasps of pleasure louder, until he comes with a howl, falling forwards on to Sebastian and jerking convulsively as his orgasm courses through him.

"Tiger! Argh, Jesus! Sebastian! Fuck!"

"I've got you, I've got you, baby. That's it, breathe. Good, yeah, sweets?"

Jim simply nods weakly into Seb's shoulder, his eyes closed and his hair plastered in damp, black curls to his forehead. After a few moments, when his breathing's quietened and his heart rate approaching normal again, Jim mouths at Seb's neck, the waning euphoria of orgasm giving way to the soreness in his backside.

"Going to untie me, tiger?"

Seb grabs him by the shoulders, pushing him back gently and slowly shaking his head, smiling.

"Not quite yet, Jimmikins. You've enjoyed yourself now, and you enjoyed yourself earlier. I'm ready for a bit of "me" time and you for a little quid pro quo, baby. 

You can start by licking your mess up and getting my leathers clean."


End file.
